


Pages and New Places

by snarkwhal



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crossover, F/M, I'll add more tags later, Reader-Insert, hetalia crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkwhal/pseuds/snarkwhal
Summary: Basically a bunch of one-shots and two-shots where the Hetalia characters and the reader live in various worlds from different young-adult book series (mostly fantasy).





	1. Welcome to Caraval! (England x Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> This first little fic will be two parts and is based off _Caraval_ by Stephanie Garber. Now, I'm aware of how some names of places in the book are in Spanish, and it might make more sense for this to be Spain x Reader, but I felt like writing England first, especially since he's part of the Magic Trio and this involves quite a bit of magic. I'll probably write a fic set here and with Spain later though.
> 
> Anyway, for those who haven't read the book series that I'll be writing these crossovers in, I'll try to explain things to the best of my ability. If you're still confused, comment and I'll try to clear things up. If you have read these series though, and you're a fan, please tell me!
> 
> After I finish the _Caraval_ crossover, I'll do either the _Grisha Trilogy_ or _Red Queen_ next. I also have _Six of Crows_ and _This Savage Song_ planned.

You continued pacing back and forth, pleating and unpleating the fabric of your navy dress. Your eyes continued darting around to reexamine your surroundings. You were in the right place, weren’t you?

In front of you was the largest house you had ever seen, built from brick and standing four stories tall with turrets and balconies spread about it. Thousands of windows were lit and a flower box hung blooming beneath each, making the estate look like a bright spring day despite the cold, dark streets that lay behind you. Between you and the house was a gate a little over twice your height, its wrought iron and gold gleaming with the light from the windows and the glass lanterns hanging on top it. Images of lions and bears along with ballerinas and couples mid-waltz, graced the tops of the fence. Yet, despite the life that the place seemed to breathe, there was no one in sight.

The ticket you had received didn’t have a specific address on it, but you decided to check it again for one anyway. You took the red paper from your pocket and scanned the silver lettering:

_Admit one_  
(F/N) (L/N) of the Conquered Iles  
La Isla de los Suenos  
To be used once to gain entrance into Caraval. Main gates close at midnight on the thirteenth day of the growing season during the fifty-seventh year of the Ellintine dynasty. Anyone who arrives later than this will not be able to participate in the game or win this year’s prize of one wish. 

Glaring at the ticket, you turned it in every direction and held it up at every angle that you could, trying to see if there was any text you could’ve missed. You had used nearly all of your savings to buy transport to this island, and what little you had left was currently in the tiny brown leather bag that hung off your right shoulder. Your entire future depended on this trip now. There was no way you were returning to your town empty handed, and still a starving actress. Not when Caraval was in front of you . Not when the opportunity to win, to have your wishes granted and dreams come true, lay in front of you.

“Is this where we begin the game?” you jumped at the voice, their words carrying an accent from somewhere in the Empire. You had been so absorbed by the ticket and your thoughts that you hadn’t heard anyone walk up next to you.

Turning your head, you came face to face with an emerald eyed man. He had a set of impossibly bushy eyebrows, and equally messy, short blonde hair. Though his hair seemed to yell, “Just rolled out of bed”, his clothes sure didn’t. He was in a grey suit, black overcoat, and a tie that matched his eyes. He was the most attractive case of bed head you had ever seen.

“Oh, how rude of me. I apologize for scaring you like that,” he cleared his throat and held out his hand, “but I’m Arthur Kirkland.”

You tentatively shook his hand, “I’m (Y/N), pleased to meet you… Oh, and um, I’m not sure if this is the entrance. I’ve been out here for nearly 10 minutes and haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

“Well, consider this your lucky day, mes amis!” another voice sang from the other side of the gate.

You and Arthur whipped around to the sound. It was a man with long blonde hair and a somewhat scruffy chin, dressed in the most obnoxious baby blue coat ever. He was riding a unicycle, and from his place on his seat, he looked at the both of you with amusement. When he looked at Arthur in particular, there was a strange glint in his violet eyes that you couldn’t place.

“I assume you two are here for Caraval, non? If you are, I need to see your tickets,” he gestured for the slips and you both handed them to him.

After a minute or two of examining them, he shoved the tickets into one of his pockets and clapped gleefully.

“Ah, oui! Monsieur Kirkland and Madam (Last Name)! We’ve been expecting you. The island is a great place for a honeymoon, non?” 

“Honeymoon? We just met and who are you-“ Arthur tried interjecting, but was interrupted by the cyclist.

“Worry not! I will let you two enter, but let me read you this first. I must do it with all our guests,” he unrolled a scroll that he took from another one of his pockets and began reading it, “Welcome, welcome to Caraval! The grandest show on land or by sea. Inside you’ll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember it’s all a game.”

As he read, you noticed that his pedaling quickened and the gate began to creak open.

“What happens beyond this gate may frighten or excite you, but don’t let any of it trick you. We will try to convince you it’s real, but all of it is a performance. A world built of make-believe. So while we want you to get swept away, be careful of being swept too far away. Dreams that come true can be beautiful, but they can also turn into nightmares when people won’t wake up.”

You furrowed your brow at the last bit, and hesitated as the gate finally stood open. _What was I getting into?_ you thought as excitement and dread began coursing through your veins. You took a quick glance at the cyclist again, and found him grinning from ear to ear as he looked between you and Arthur. Arthur, on the other hand, seemed to be glaring daggers at him.

“That is all from me for now. If you wish to simply watch the game, go down the path to your right. If you wish to play the game, take the path to your left. Remember, this year’s winner will receive the chance to have Caraval master Legend grant any one of their wishes.”

You took a deep breath, stepping past the gate and cyclist. To your right was a path lit by soft glowing paper lanterns, and to your left was one lit entirely by silver candels and mirror puddles of wax. On one hand, you could stay on the sidelines and sit back and relax. On the other, you could try winning, possibly putting yourself in danger. But what was so dangerous about this? If it was just a performance, you should be able to tell apart the actors and sets, right? Besides, its been held annually for decades and the stories you heard as a child made it out to be the greatest performance in the world.

As you reached the fork in the main path, you took a sharp left. _Might as well try_ , you thought, laughing nervously.

“Looks like you and I will be seeing quite a bit of each other,” Arthur muttered as he strode past you to the house.

Not wanting to be left alone outside, and not wanting to be the last to show up inside, you quickened your pace. Eventually, the two of you reached a set of large double doors, both of which had Caraval’s symbol carved into the dark wood. The sun with a star and a teardrop in it.

“This is it,” you choked out and pushed the doors open.

Inside, you were greeted with a long hall. You couldn’t see where it ended, and the plush red carpet seemed to go on forever. The same went for the matching sets of curtains which appeared at different intervals on the opposite wall. Above you hung dozens of crystal chandeliers, spreading champagne coloured light in every direction. It was beautiful, but it was so quiet that you were too put off to enjoy it fully. No one was around, except Arthur and you, so you decided to look in hopes of finding someone or something. Turns out he had the same idea, and you were left to wander by yourself.

After a few minutes, you decided to try returning to the gate and asking the cyclist for help. As you turned to leave though, you were blocked as you bumped into someone.  
“Ah, I’m sorry,” you gasped, “Oh, it’s you again.”

Bushy brows knitted together, and Arthur huffed, “I’m glad to see you as well, (Y/N).”  
“Any luck finding where to start?  
“No, but I-“

.“Ahem! Perhaps, I could help,” someone spoke up softly from behind Arthur.

You peered around him to see the person who might assist you. It was a teenage boy with hair similar to the cyclist’s, except his had a curl sticking out of place at the top. He was dressed in a white suit, paired with a white top hat. With what he was wearing and how silently he had appeared, you would have sworn he was a ghost. But ghost or not, he had answers that you wanted.

Before you could ask anything, the boy launched into the same speech from earlier. You tuned out most of it, but one word caught your attention, making your breath hitch.

“What was that about death?” Arthur said, voicing both of your terrified thoughts.

The boy sighed as if he were tired of people not listening to him, “All of this is a performance, none of it is real, but Caraval cannot be held responsible for what any players may do if they forget this. This means we cannot be held responsible for any madness that may ensue, or any deaths such madness may cause.”

_Maybe I should leave_ , you thought for the first time since getting to this weird place, but as you took a step forward, the boy took one in your direction. You backed off alarmed, but he simply stopped before you and in front of a pair of curtains. A bit flapped open, and you got a glimpse of night sky brighter than what you had seen outside only 20 minutes ago. The boy shut it though, cutting off your view and suddenly peaking your interest.

“Before either of you can enter, I’ll need to make sure you understood those rules. If you agree, I’ll need a drop of blood on each of these contracts,” he said as he held out two pieces of paper with writing so small that a magnifying glass was needed to read it.

You blinked incredulously,your eyes flickering from him to the contract. He looked at you as if this was his everyday routine, which it probably was. Two warnings, one of which mentioned insanity and death, and a contract signed in blood? You felt like you would seriously regret joining this game, but another part of you felt like you would regret not joinging it more. You had already come this far, no point in giving up now.

Inhaling, you stuck out your right index finger, and the boy pricked it and squeezed a drop of blood onto a sheet. You grimaced and glanced to your left. Arthur signed the contract with little hesitation, completely unnerved and if he was, he was hiding it well. At least if you were doomed, you might not be doomed alone. Or maybe he could help you win, since he looked like he knew a thing or two. Either way, his presence gave you an extremely odd sense of comfort, considering he was still a stranger and all.

“The game begins tomorrow evening and ends on the morning of the nineteenth. You’ll be given a mystery and the first clue tomorrow. For now, make your way to the La Serpiente de Cristale where your lodgings are,and do it before sunrise. Enjoy,” the boy nodded at the both of you before pulling a rope, separating the curtains and giving you a perfect view of Caraval.


	2. Welcome to Caraval Pt.2 (England x Reader)

When the drapes had parted you had expected to see a balcony overlooking a theatre or a ballroom. Instead you found thousands of other balconies that connected to form a gigantic circular arena, surrounding an entire town below. You could feel a cool breeze washing over you from somewhere, but not from the hall or the mansion’s entrance behind you. And as you looked up, instead of finding a high ceiling and more chandeliers, you stared up at a dark sky speckled with the silvery-white gleam of a million stars.

_I guess they opened the roof somehow? But where’s the moon? And how could they fit an entire town down there? I know this place’s big, but it can’t possibly be that big,_ you practically screamed in your head and ran up to the balcony railing to get a better look at everything.

The town looked like it was meant to be in a child’s story book, or like it had popped right out of a dream. Some buildings were square and others were circular, some were humble shops and inns while others were almost palaces, and they were all either candy-coloured or had some metallic trim lining their walls. The cobblestone streets and arching bridges glittered as if they had crushed gems laid in them. Crystal blue water flowed from fountains and through canals, where bright crescent boats swam like tropical fish. Plus, amongst it all, you took note of the thousands of people already flooding the streets.

“(Y/n). (Y/n)!” someone called.

“Uh… Yeah,” you stammered, “so where are we going?”

“We’re supposed to get to La Serpiente de Cristale before sunrise, remember? That’s probably in the town that you might’ve noticed, and the only way to get down there is by going down these stairs. Unless you’d rather jump.”

You scoffed and snatched his hand, “What are you waiting for then?”

After descending down the stairs for what seemed like an eternity, you figured that it would’ve been easier to jump. Less fun, but easier. On the bright side, Arthur kept up a steady stream of conversation and you got to learn more and more about him with every step. He was from a merchant family and was the second oldest of six. His older brother had attended Caraval before, with no luck winning, but he had such a great experience that he told his brothers anything and everything about it. That was probably why Arthur was so comfortable with so much of the place, and why the cyclist had looked at him so strangely, as if he were someone familiar.

When you finally reached the bottom and stepped out into the night, you were panting and your companion seemed to have barely broken a sweat. Thankfully, while you were catching your breath, he tried flagging down one of the boats and soon enough a lilac one came to a stop before you two.

“Ciao,” the red headed man rowing it chirped, , “how can I help you two?”

“My friend and I here need to find La Serpiente de Cristale. Could you please take us there?” Arthur asked politely while his feet shuffled impatiently and his eyes darted to the sky.

“Of course! But you’ll have to pay me.”

You looked at him hesitantly. While you had brought money, it was a fairly low amount and all you had. You wanted to save as much of it as possible for food and transport off the island when the game ended. Surely, you two could save by just walking to the inn. Unless, Arthur decided to pay like the gentleman he kept telling you he was on the trip down the stairs.

The man in the boat chirped again, “We don’t take money here though! We prefer trading. I would love to trade for pasta, but the game rules say that I have to trade a ride for information.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Information? Like what?”

“Oh, personal things. So for this ride, answer this! What’s your love life like right now? Anyone special?”

“W-what? You can’t just ask us things like that!”

“Well, trading information is how we pay around here, so you have to give us something of value if you want something in return.”

You gawked at the peppy man. This was probably not as big a deal as you were making it out to be, but frankly you didn’t care. Caraval rules or not, any situation where a stranger asked you that made you a little uneasy. And you were just starting, so who knew what was next?

Sighing and running a hand through your hair, you turned your head up to the sky. It still seemed fairly dark, the break of dawn no where in sight, but you didn’t know how far the inn was or how much longer it might take to find it yourself by walking. Not to mention, there was a possibility that your sense of time might not be the greatest here. You didn’t want to risk being left out in the morning.

“Fine,” you conceded, “I’m single right now, and there’s no one that I’ve been particularly pining over as of late. I’ll be honest though, I came here partly thinking I might find somebody during the game…”

“I… don’t have anyone at the moment either,” Arthur added irritably, “My brothers thought I could find someone here, too.”  
The man in the boat cheered, “Wonderful! Now hop in, hop in!”

You watched as Arthur stepped in the swaying vessel carefully, and awkwardly got in with his help afterward. Sitting across from him, you noticed that he kept looking away from you and was fiddeling with his tie. You brushed it off as him being impatient and you turned your gaze to the streets as the boat began floating by them.

As you travelled down the canal, you passed a myriad of sights and sounds. There was a building made entirely of glass, displaying jeweled dresses and cake-like ball gowns. On another street, you saw a carousel decorated entirely by roses, accompanied by a man playing the organ as it spun and spilled scarlet petals. As you floated under a bridge, you saw troops of dancers and acrobats, surrounded by cheering crowds and strings of lights and streamers. You even saw a woman eating a dessert that looked as if it was dipped in molten gold.

“Couldn’t you hurry this up?” Arthur grumbled from the seat across you.

“Enjoy the scenery, Arthur,” you laughed, “It’s beautiful, don’t you think? Plus they all fit it into a building somehow, and there’s so many people, too.”

“It’s a very large building and an elaborate performance, (Y/n). Not magic.”  
“Maybe it’s a magical performance then. I mean, you’ve heard the stories of Legend, haven’t you?”

There was no person in the world that hadn’t heard of Caraval without learning about the man who made it. No one knew what his real name was, just that he went by “Legend”. No one knew his age, his family, or his face. The only thing that anyone knew was that he had one day popped out of no where with a show unlike anything before. Stories you heard either made him out to be a villain or a hero, but to you, they all made him sound as powerful as a god.

“He could just be a very, very rich person,” Arthur said, “He does own an island after all.”

You waved him off, “Money or magic, whatever. Either way, when I meet him, I’ll ask to join the show and become one of his actors.”

“You’d have to win to meet him. And if you do meet him before the end of the game, you won’t know it’s him,” the man rowing spoke up, “He never shows players who he truly is and he appears different in the game every year.”

You turned around to look at the man again. Now that you were closer, he didn’t look older than his early twenties. You saw no way that he could be Legend, but he did say that Legend altered his appearance to players every year. How much could he alter it? What if you had already met him? Thousands of questions began piling up and on top of the other thousand you already had, and the strange glint in the man’s eyes didn’t help. Even stranger was the fact that his gaze was directed to Arthur, like the gate keeper’s was.

“You are Master Legend’s special guest, (Y/N). Didn’t Francis tell you when he took your ticket? You might’ve run into Legend already!”

The pile of questions just kept getting larger and larger, and at this point it was a small mountain. Special guest? Why were you his special guest? Were you the only one?

Green eyes glared impatiently at the man behind you, “Am I speaking to Legend? Because if I am, can’t you get us to La Serpiente faster?”

“Ha, ha! I’m not saying that. Trust me, you haven’t spoken to him, and you aren’t now, but (Y/n) might have. Who knows?”

You began racking through the list of people you’ve met in your head. The only other people you had spoken to since you arrived were the man who you now knew as Francis, the blonde boy with the curl, and the particularly irritable gentleman in front of you. Could any of them be Legend? As much as you wanted to figure out that mystery, you soon realized that you didn’t have time to.

“Is it just me, or are the lanterns starting to dim?

All around you street lights, candles, and paper lanterns began to lose their lustre as their bright glows slowly faded. It was as if they were warning you, telling you that time was nearly out and the sun was about to come up. Looking at the sky, you noticed that it was true. The stars were gone and it was the brief period where all was dark before dawn broke.

“Oh, perfect timing,” the red head sang, “We’re just about to arrive at La Serpiente!” 

As you squinted in the growing dark, you could just barely make out a three story building. It’s walls were entirely covered in ivy, and there were two lanterns that hung above an emerald door and were still fairly bright. They illuminated a sign with a white serpent curling around a black cluster of grapes, confirming it as La Serpiente. It was also about fifty feet away from where you were docking, and you thought you saw blue beginning to peek over the horizon. 

At the same time, you and Arthur quickly got up and tried climbing up and out of the boat onto the rickety dock. Of course, the force with which you two did this made it rock and both of you fought not to lose your balance and fall in the water. You hadn’t fallen in, but the same couldn’t be said about your things. As you stepped with one foot on the dock and the other still in the boat, you wobbled in the rush, banging your knees and flailing as you tried not falling on your face, which caused your bag to fly out of your grip and into the water.

You barely had time to think of trying to fish it out before Arthur grabbed you and ran with you into the building. Once you were in though, the door shut with an audible click and a heavy dead bolt was pulled into place by a woman next to you. 

“Oh, excuse me. It isn’t dawn yet, so is it alright if you let me out? My things fell into the canal, and I want to see if there’s a way to fish them out,” you pleaded with the woman.

She had light brown hair with a flower in it, and she looked kind and sympathetic, but she just smiled sadly and said, “I’m sorry, honey. Rules are rules, and even if I did let you out, there wouldn’t be much time for you to get your things.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You groaned and looked out the window. The sun hadn’t shown up yet, and there was still black in the sky. It was very little, but it was still there. There was still enough of it that you thought you could’ve slowed down a little and been more careful leaving the boat.

“We had a little more time, you know? I could’ve gotten my bag,” you hissed at Arthur.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make you drop it. Besides if I hadn’t rushed you in here, you wouldn’t have had anything and you would’ve been locked out, too.”

“Why do you care so much if I get locked out? I can fend for myself.”

“I’m doing what any other curtius person would do. I’ll be happy to leave you alone once the game begins if you despise my help that much.”

“I’ll be fine without it!”

You stormed off to the front desk, finding the woman again. Giving her your name, as calmly as you could, you asked about your room. She gave you a smile as if to apologize for your situation, and handed you a green glass key for room 23. When you thanked her and turned to leave though, she added one more thing, with a little laugh and a nod at Arthur.

“Don’t be so hard on your friend, he was just helping. Plus, the game’s always more fun with a friend.”

You nodded tursley and trudged up the stairs to find your room, which you soon realized was more difficult than you thought. Though the layout had looked simple enough at first, you soon realized that the room numbers weren’t in order. You passed doors of different colours, all of them standing next to another that was out of place numerically. 5 was next to 13, and 11 was next to 19 and 2.

Eventually, you found 23 on the second floor at the end of a hall. Room 4 was across from it, and you had noticed that Arthur was standing in front of it and struggling with the lock.  
“Here, try this,” you swiped his key from him and jiggled it in the lock and jerked the door knob a bit before it opened.

You didn’t exactly know why you were doing this, but you felt that you should make it up to him. So you could get him to help you find clues later on? Use him for your own goals? Or were you just avoiding loneliness? Whatever the reason, you knew you shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.

“Look, I apologize for losing my temper like that. I’m glad you dragged me in here.”

“You might’ve already noticed, but I don’t think I have all that great a temper either, so we’re even. We could go out some time tomorrow and find you some new clothes and get food together if you like. Make up for your bag?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you then.”

You said good night, or rather good morning, to each other and left for your own room. You mulled over the night’s events, meeting Arthur in particular, as you unlocked your door. He had a tendency to switch between being a natural born gentleman and a prick who was nice begrudgingly. You didn’t know if he was always so irritable, or if he was hiding something in those moments. Not to mention, how strange others acted around him. In fact, he may be the strangest of the bunch yet.

Entering your room, you drank in your surroundings for the millionth time tonight. With how extravagant Caraval was so far, you shouldn’t have been surprised that your room would be anything less than amazing. There was a white marble fireplace and white molding on the walls, both of which had leaves and flowers carved into them. The furniture around the room was made of a light coloured wood and pale green fabric with tiny gold flecks in it. In the middle of it all was a four poster bed, piled with pillows and a duvet that looked like a cloud. On top of all that though, a plain brown box lay on the sheets.

Cautiously walking over to it and lifting the lid, you saw a grey dress and a note that read:

Apologies for the rush on the boat. Feliciano can get so distracted and talk about so many things. Some things he really shouldn’t talk about so openly. Hopefully this will make up for it and suffice until you go shopping tomorrow.  
Till then,  
A friend

_Was that from Legend?_ you wondered as you began changing, _There’s no way it’s from Arthur. When would he have had time to get it? I literally saw him less than a minute ago, and he couldn’t have just walked in here and left it._

The new dress was comfortable, and though it didn’t look like much, especially with everything around you, you were happy to have it. But when you walked over to the mirror to look at yourself, what hadn’t looked like much originally had morphed into something entirely different. Instead of a plain grey night gown, the dress was shifting shape and colour. It went from a aquamarine dress with a train that reminded you of a waterfall, to a soft yellow off shoulder number, and finally to a night gown made of light pink lace and silk.

So when you finally went to bed, you thought of how Caraval’s wonders never ceased, and how you and your new companion could meet the man behind it all. Unless your new friend was him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, friends! Sorry I took forever to do this, school and stuff, you know? Anyway, please tell me what you think and tell me if you have any other AUs that you're interested int~
> 
> Also, I caved the other day and got Hetalia Amino. If you have an amino, go check me out @her royal sightless.


	3. Fjerdan Five (Nordics x Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned and now with a Nordic one-shot! And I call this one "Fjerdan Five" because now we're in Leigh Bardugo's grishaverse from Six of Crows and The Grisha Trilogy and Fjerda is a country heavily based off Nordic nations. So yeah... have this.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment, especially if you have questions or critiques!

You sighed heavily and shut your eyes for the briefest moment. Sleeping was tempting, but the fear of falling off of your tree branch outweighed your desire.

It was a week since you’d left Djerholm and a little over a month since you’d left Ketterdam. After years and years of working for the merchant council, along with a few favours for Kerch’s most infamous gangs, you had saved up enough money to buy yourself out of your contract as an endentured servant. You’d finally be able to go to Ravka and walk down a street without fearing being kidnapped for being grisha… or so you thought.

In your attempts to book cheap passage to Os Kiervo, Ravka’s largest port city, you had tried using your connections within the merchant council’s shipping companies and had managed to secure a spot on a ship carrying coffee beans and refined sugar. The crew had either forgotten to tell you, or elected not to tell you, that they were dropping part of their shipment in Djerholm, Fjerda’s capital city and heart of “witch” hunter country. So when the ship had arrived, you were anxious to say the least, attempting to keep composure as you stood in a city notorious for executing people like you.

Your first instinct was to run of course, but the more rational part of your brain convinced you to stay by the crew and pretend as if you were any other sailor. That plan had failed as you became more and more suspiscious of a few of the crew members, eventually overhearing half of them discussing turning you in to some Fjerdans for extra cash. And so, in the dead of night, you stole a few supplies and left the city on foot, determined to make it to Os Kiervo yourself.

While you congradulated yourself on the current success of your new plan, a twig snapped on the ground below, popping your bubble of calm. It was either an animal or a person. You were hoping for the former and not the latter, that way you could kill it and eat instead of facing the possibility of being hunted and killed yourself. If it was the latter, you prayed that they wouldn’t look up at your tree and its sparse leaves.

As you peered down, you spotted a head of blonde hair. Then you spotted another, and another, and another, and another. With a lerch you realized there were five men below you and glimpsed the dull metal of a gun barrel peeking out from a few of their pockets. You couldn’t understand them, considering they were all speaking in Fjerdan, and your heart pounded at the idea of them being Druskelle. There was a possibility that you were about to be executed by the country’s most elite soldiers and for what? For existing and committing the crime of being “unnatural”.

You took note of the fact that they weren’t wearing any uniforms and found yourself leaning closer and closer, trying to decipher whether or not the ragged and simple clothes were truly their own or disguises. Forgetting the fact you were in a tree, you leaned so far over that you fell from your perch and plummeted toward the icy cold ground. Without a second thought you whipped out your arms, creating an updraft that cushioned your fall and kept you from breaking your bones on the forrest floor. It was a quick solution, but one that screamed, “Look at me!” as loud as actually screaming and hitting the ground at full force.

Gasping for air, you scrambled into a fighting stance, preparing to summon stronger winds in case you had to fling a person or two. There was no point in pretending, not with an entrance like that, and you weren’t going down without a fight. Quickly you surveyed your five opponents and saw various levels of shock on their faces. Yet none of them reached for a weapon as they looked at you.

One of them, a man with gravity defying hair, spoke first, “You’re grisha?!”

To his left, a man with his hair clipped back by a cross pin spoke up, “Any louder Mathias…”

You didn’t answer the question and continued staring at them warily.

“You’re frightening her,” exclaimed their particularly baby-faced companion, “Look at the impression we’ve left now”!

“Tino, I think we have more to worry about,” sighed another with hair that bordered on being as white as snow.

“We can’t let this get out of hand now,” added the tallest member of the group, peering at you through his glasses.

As you stood there, poised to attack at any moment, the tension in your body eased as the group turn their attention from you to arguing with each other. You debated simply shuffling off quietly, but the expressions on their faces when they’d seen you fall from the tree was intriguing. It wasn’t horror or disgust at witnessing your power… It was more like excitement and curiosity.

“That’s enough. We’re being rude,” stated the tallest one.

The man, who you now knew as Mathias, turned to you as happy as a child on their birthday, “What I meant to say earlier is that we’re grisha, too! Who knew we’d run into someone else here in Fjerda?! Oh! And you’re a squaller?”

“Uh… Hi? And yeah,” you stammered.

“Well, I’m Mathias. That’s Emil, Lukas, Tino, and Berwald,” he said pointing to his white-haired companion, the one with the hair clip, the baby-faced man, and the extremely stoic and tall man in turn.

You nodded and added, “I’m (Y/N).”

***

”He said it was some incident that happened with him using his powers in his sleep, but we all knew he was trying to blame them and cover up for the fact that he wet himself.”

You snorted laughing as Lukas retold you the story of a young Emil learning what he could do with water as a tidemaker, much to the younger brother’s dismay. It was difficult containing your laughter and trying not to hurt his feelings, but it’d been so long since you’d been open with anyone about being grisha. So when you arrived at camp, you burst into a fit of giggles, dropping your armful of firewood as Emil huffed and added to your pile.

Plopping down next to Berwald, he nodded to you in greeting and handed you a few of your things that had fallen out of the tree earlier but hadn’t gotten out as well as you did. You looked at the glass on your compass, no longer shattered and with the needle back in place. Berwald was a grisha durast, able to build and fix things only using his hands and no tools. You smiled at him and thanked him.

He gave you an imperceptible smile back, “You’re welcome.”

“(Y/N)! It’s time to see a master at work!”

You looked over to where you were called. Mathias was waving at you from across the pile of sticks you and Emil had gathered while Lukas was getting water earlier. He whipped out a flint and you realized he was an inferni. With one swift strike Mathias sent a small flame twisting through the air like a snake, and with a few more dramatic gestures he coiled it around the sticks and lit the campfire.

Emil rolled his eyes, “One day you’re going to give us away.”

“And if I ever do, I’ll happily fight off any Druskelle that dare to attack”

You quirked an eyebrow at the inferni’s casual tone when talking about possible death. After meeting your new group of friends, you learned that all of them were grisha that spent their time travelling and doing whatever small jobs they could find. Mathias was an inferni, Berwald was a durast, and Emil and Lukas were tidemakers. You still hadn’t figured out what grisha order Tino was, but it didn’t bother you. You were just happy that you’d run into them all and that they welcomed you as a part of their little family.

Tino sat next to you after cleaning the rabbit he killed, shaking his head at Mathias, “Emil’s right, you know? Better safe than sorry.”

“Oh, come on,” he replied, “No Druskelle stands a chance against you!”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you said to Tino, “what is your power?”

“I usually take care of anyone’s illnesses or injuries.”

“But he’s better at being a heartrender,” Emil added bluntly.

You stared at him stunned, trying to wrap your head around the idea of Tino being a heartrender. He was so innocent looking, he acted so motherly. And it turned out, he could also break bones and stop a heart without ever touching his target. Now you were even more thankful for them.

The heartrender in question sighed, “Whatever the case, we’re glad to help you out, (Y/N). You said you were heading for Ravka?”

“Yeah. I was hoping to keep following the coast South till I found Os Kiervo or something. Then I could find a member of the second army and ask to join.”

“Well, boys, we’ve found our new mission,” Mathias piped up.

“Stop calling what we do missions,” Lukas said. 

Emil rolled his eyes at the exchange, Tino laughed, and Berwald nodded. They were an interesting bunch and travelling with them for the next few days was bound to be a whole new adventure. The only thing you feared now was having to part ways.


End file.
